


Written In The Cards

by Missyswife37



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Future Fic, Ghosts, Hunters & Hunting, M/M, Tarot, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-07
Updated: 2019-11-07
Packaged: 2021-01-25 01:21:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21347938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missyswife37/pseuds/Missyswife37
Summary: Tarot Wincest Writing ChallengeThe Lovers Card:Empathy, compassion, sexuality, attachment, combination, conflicting choices, relationships, partners, union, Soulmates, finding balance within oneself, finding balance within another person, Ying and Yang.This story is set in the furture, Sam Winchester telling a story to a young hunter.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	Written In The Cards

**Author's Note:**

> He sat at the green picnic table in the corner of the park, smoking cigarettes. As always, he looks like he's waiting for someone. The man was taller than most and wore the same ratty flannel under a Carhart jacket that he had since I met him. His jeans were just as worn out and his boots had seen better days. He really needed a haircut and a shave. You could just slightly tell his hair was once a soft brown under all the grey. He was a nice old timer. He seemed a little crazy to some by the stories he told of monsters, demons, and Angels. Being a hunter myself, he was my favorite to talk to in this one-horse town.

"Hi Mr. Winchester."

"Now how many times do I have to tell you, Austin, call me Sam," he said, taking a drag from the last bit of his cigarette, the smoke encircled is long hair and head like a halo.

"So Sam, how was your day?" I asked as I sat down across from him.

"Good, better if my brother didn't try to bust out of the nursing home again," replied Sam with a chuckle. A distant look came over his face.

I knew that look all too well, after a lifetime of talking to the old hunter. Sam raked a hand over his long grey hair and goes to light another cigarette. His hands shook slightly from old age when he brought the lighter to the end of it. He tilted his face toward the sky, eyes closed as he savored the taste. Slowly exhaling the smoke from between his lips.

"You know, I never did like smoking. Dean, however, would smoke a pack a day if I let him," chuckled Sam as he put the pack and zippo lighter back into his shirt breast pocket.

Sam got that faraway look again before he launched into a story about one of his and his big brother's hunts in Salem, Massachusetts, involving the ghost of a Magistrate who was head of the witch trails.

****

The shiny black and Chrome plated muscle car rumbled into the parking lot of the quaint looking motel. It was old, paint chipped in places on the vinyl siding, shutters were hanging low on their hinges, even the roof over the wrap-around porch looked like it was about to cave in.

Dean took one look at it and shrugged with indifference as he swung the driver's side door open to step out and stretch. "I'll get the bags. It's your turn to get the room." Bending down to look inside the car at a miffed little brother in the passenger seat.

Sam was still sore at Dean for treating him like a teenager just learning to drive in front of the King of Hell, of all demons. He sighed heavily as he opened the door to get out of the car. He grumbled as his heavily laden boots thumped up the steps, carrying the rest of him to the porch.

Sam stood at the counter that was as high as his flannel covered chest. The clerk was in the back room. "I'll be right with you," said a soft female voice.

He looked around the front room of the lobby. Not much different from the usual places they had stayed in a time or two. On the counter was a deck of tarot cards with a sign promoting a local psychic. Sam couldn't resist. He picked up the top card from the deck, placing it on the counter face up.

The card itself was beautiful. It depicted two people (sex unknown) standing together in an embrace with an outdoor theme in the background. The sun setting and the moon rising.

A short girl with jet black hair and thick bottlecap glasses came up to the counter just then. "Hi, how can I help you?" she smiled softly as she looked down at the counter. "Oh! The Lovers card!"

Sam blinked at her, not fully understanding what she meant until he followed her gaze down to the counter top.

"The Lovers card is about Soulmates and the struggle for balance within one's life," explained the clerk as she pushed her glasses higher up her nose.

"Oh... ummm... I need a room, preferably one with 2 queens," said Sam, trying not to sound awkward.

"Let's see. Oh I'm sorry, it looks like we only have one vacancy left.... It is Halloween season. Salem celebrates until November second when the veil is closing," explained the clerk

"That's fine. We will take it," said Sam a bit tired and getting frustrated with the clerk. Like he didn't know the veil was closing.

She handed him the key after he paid for the next two days.

***

I interrupted him, gasping my surprise.

"Whoa! Wait, you actually touched someone's deck? My mom is a tarot reader, she taught me and my brother to NEVER touch someone's deck."

"Yea. Better listen to your mom kid, I learned the hard way," said Sam taking another drag off his cigarette as he continued his story.

***

Dean was waiting by the car with the duffel bags as Sam walked back out the door and onto the porch. He whistled to get Dean's attention who was staring off into space.

"All set?" inquired Dean lifting his head, a slow smirk building on his lips, as he hefted up the bags to follow Sam to their room.

Dean noticed the issue in an instant. "Dude, one bed?"

"Not like we haven't shared before, besides the clerk said it was the last room."

"At least it's a king. Hopping in the shower," as he settled the bags onto an oversized chair in the corner of the room.

Sam set up his laptop on the table by the door and got to work on researching everything he could on the Salem witch trials.

Sam was so engrossed into a site about Chief Magistrate William Stoughton, who was in charge of the Salem witch trails in 1693, he didn't hear Dean leave the bathroom until he set a lukewarm beer down in front of him.

"Ok, so get this... this William Stoughton guy was the acting governor in 1693. He also acted as both Chief judge and prosecutor. He used 'spectral evidence' to convict more than 20 people of witchcraft." said Sam bringing the bottle to his parched lips.

"What the hell is 'spectral evidence'?" Asked Dean plopping into the chair next to him.

"It's an idea that a demonic vision could only take shape or appearance of someone who had made some sort of devilish pact or engaged in witchcraft," said Sam as he turned the laptop towards his brother to take a look.

"So basically... this douchebag ordered pregnant woman to die? Dude, that's messed up!" said Dean, once he read through the whole article.

"Yep," answered Sam as he got up to fetch relatively clean clothes. "Gonna hit the shower, you leave me any hot water?"

"Yes princess. Hurry up. I wanna hit the hay soon, so we can head out early," replied Dean, standing up himself to lay on the bed.

"Who's a princess?" chuckled Sam as he closed the bathroom door on his brother.

Sam was in and out in ten minutes, towel drying his hair as he stepped out of the bathroom to find Dean sitting up against the headboard, flipping through the channels on the small TV.

***

Sam crosses to the right side of the bed, throwing back the covers to get in next to Dean. Rolling over onto his right side, facing the wall. Dean clicked off the TV and the bedside lamp to join Sam under the scratchy blanket.

Sam, only wearing boxers and a t-shirt that had seen better days, felt Dean's warm body press up to his. Dean's hand lightly caressed his brother's thigh, moving slowly toward Sam's groin.

He remembers the soft moans and grunts that came out of his brother's mouth as he thrust his thick cock into Sam that night. The amazing feeling of being so full and loved in that moment, since they had been so distant for far too long-

***

"Sam? Umm, Sam are you doing okay man?" I'm used to his pauses in his stories, him simply reaching for memories. This was different, though. The old man was halted mid-reach for his water bottle and it had gone on so long, I worried he was gonna fall over.

"Hmm... What? Oh Austin, dude, I'm sorry. What was I saying?" said Sam jerking back to the present, so glad he didn't spill that part of his story to a kid barely outta diapers.

"You and Dean were in Salem, at a motel and you were just going to bed," I pressed, as he straightened up and brought the bottle to his lips to take a long draft off of it. I tried very hard not to be impatient as I waited for him to continue.

"Right. Right," said Sam, taking another cigarette out of his pack, not lighting it, just holding it in his hand.

***

The Salem Witch Museum was a medieval castle, according to Dean. The building was actually an old Abby that was restored in 1972. It was the first church of Salem and the site of twenty deaths during the Witch trials. The Museum hosted presentations of actual documented trial cases. Visitors experienced the drama of the dark times through thirteen life-sized stage sets along with a stirring narrative of the witch trials that had goosebumps appear on Sam's forearms.

They decided to dress in tourist garb instead of in their suits for this one, Dean figured that if they blend in they might get better intel on this ghost. Sam wore an I ❤ Mass sweatshirt with a lobster playing volleyball on it with jeans and Dean was decked out in a UMass sweatshirt with jeans, playing the part of college kids on a tour for school.

Sam met with Miss Lily Dale, the museum curator, while Dean took a look around at the artifacts. They didn't find out much about the ghost, but they did about the man. He had been Mayor of Salem in 1967 and head of the witch trials but he held a secret. He was a practicing witch himself.

"If he was a practicing witch why would he be killing local witches now?" asked Sam following Dean to the Impala.

"That's what we need to find out, I'm going to the local bar in the village, why don't you go on a tour?" said Dean as he parked outside of said bar.

Sam looked after Dean in concern and sits in the car a few moments trying to think what could have changed between the bliss of the night before and this morning.

"Are you coming or what?" said Dean as he walked to the front of the car.

"Alright, fine. I'll take the tour, but you have to promise not to get drunk and spend all our cash." Sam got out of the car with his bag over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Yeah. Go see if you can find anything out that we might have missed." Dean walked into the bar.

Sam went on a guided tour with a self-proclaimed "witch" named Vickey around the village. She was one of those that wasn't really a witch, more like a tree hugger.

Later that afternoon Dean met Sam and the tour group at the famous Parris house. Reverend Samuel Parris was to blame for the witch trails.

"Sam, I have a lead on our case," said Dean in a low voice.

"Where? In the bottom of a bottle? Dude you reek." Sam gave him a patent bitchface.

"Yea, the bartender spilt my drink on me when I refused his advances," smirked Dean.

Sam got a flutter of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. "So? The lead?"

"Not here. Let's head back to the motel," said Dean, looking around at the couples with children, older people taking photos and living the apple pie dream. He wouldn't trade what he had with Sam though.

Sam could see the emotions flash through Dean's face as he studied him over the Impala's roof before getting in. Sam dropped his bag as always onto the floor in between his feet. Something fluttered just over the edge of the seat and landed under the radio before he could get a good look at it.

"What's that?" asked Dean as he picked up the flat shiny card. "Sam? Why is there a freaking tarot card in the car?"

"I... I don't know. How am I supposed to know what you keep..." started Sam, eyeing the Lovers Card from the front desk of the motel, now residing in Dean's hand.

"What? Dammit Sam!" growled Dean looking the tarot card over, he didn't have much experience with them, but he knew few good people that did.

"I... I swear Dean. That... that was back at the motel." Eyes wide, they flitted from the card to his brother.

***

"Ok, whoa! Wait a minute, so you're telling me that not only did YOU pick up the card, but now Dean? Are you guys insane!? How long did you say you guys have been doing this for?" I said with both eyebrows raised in shock, not believing these two could be such idiots.

"Yea. Are you gonna listen or what kid?" asked the old hunter, giving the kid one of his patent bitchfaces. The kid was hanging onto every word so far.

***

Placing the card on the dash in front of him, Dean put the car into gear and headed toward the motel. They would be getting some answers from that motel clerk. There was no way Sam had held onto it, not after all the crap they've been thrown over years.

Dean had a gut feeling that there was more to this card than meets the eye.

Baby slid into the parking lot smooth as butter, even over the pitted pavement. Sam fidgeted in his spot next to Dean as the engine was cut. Putting a warm hand to the back of Sam's neck for reassurance.

"Alright," said Dean, eyeing his little brother and seeing the nervous energy coming off of him.

"Yea. Yea Dean, let's do this," sighed Sam, brushing his long bangs out of his face as he reached for the door handle to unfold himself from the car.

Dean moved his hand back once he saw Sam was more relaxed. He grabbed the card off the dash before climbing out of the drivers seat. The old hinges on the Impala squeaked loudly in the quiet parking lot as both men closed the doors. The Winchester brothers walked cautiously up the stairs to the main lobby.

The small, dark-haired girl wearing thick, bottlecap-like glasses was at the desk when Dean walked in with Sam hot on his heels, a look of determination on his face to get answers.

She looked up and smiled at the two men that approached the desk. "Hi gentlemen. Enjoying your stay in Salem?"

Dean smiled his charming, toothy smile at the girl. "Yes, thank you. I was hoping you could help me. See my baby brother, here, said there was a tarot reader that might be around and well. He really wants a reading."

Sam blushed, letting his long bangs fall in his face to hide his embarrassment while watching Dean flirt with the motel clerk and playing with the card in his hand behind his back.

The clerk looked around the desk for the flyer that was there the previous night. Finally locating it, she passed it to the man with the pretty green eyes that gave off a dangerous glint, fluttering her eyelashes at him shyly.

"Thank you." Flashing another mega-watt smile at her before turning back to Sam, ushering him out of the lobby and toward their room.

Once in their room, Dean shucked off his boots and jacket. Slumping down into a chair by the table where Sam was busy trying to load his laptop.

Looking at the flyer and tarot card, Dean raked a hand over his face with a sigh. Starlight Essence, who names their kid Starlight? The psychic that hopefully would hold the answers to get this job done. Not that he had much faith in psychics, but it would be a start.

Dean seemed possessed with an intense need, not sure where it had come from, but he needed to touch Sam more than anything. He stood from his chair moving behind his little brother to caress the broad shoulders...

***

Dean operates off of impulsive desires, not sure where they are coming from but just knows that if he doesn't touch Sam soon he might explode. He stood from his chair moving behind his little brother to caress the broad shoulders and place light kisses to his long neck while Sam is trying to work.

"Dean," finding it difficult to breathe with his brother's lips and tongue laving at his skin.

"Hmmm," not stopping in his ministrations.

"Dean...knock it off," protests Sam as he scrolls through a website.

"The case can wait five minutes, Sam," murmurs Dean as he runs his tongue from base of his neck to ear lobe.

"Five minutes, I'm not sure it's worth getting undressed for," smirked Sam as he leaned into the touch.

"C'mon Sam, you haven't let me touch you in like two weeks, I have needs!" moving his hands from Sam's shoulders and down his chest, kneading the tight muscle of his pecs.

"Dean it's barely been twenty-four hours," trying to keep the whimper out of his voice.

"Feels like two weeks." Dean kissed the sensitive spot behind Sam's ear, drawing out an annoyed yet turned on sigh from his brother.

"I swear if you cum before me, we aren't having sex for a week," growled Dean nipping Sam's earlobe before sucking it into his hot wet mouth.

"Like you could make it a week." Sam leaned back into the chair, feeling Dean's hard body behind him, his hand caressing Sam's chest, sliding across a nipple to rip a gasp out of the younger brother.

Sam turns to his brother, ignoring the smug smirk he finds. He leans into Dean's chest, sliding his hand slowly under his brother's shirt. Feeling the slightly scared but smooth skin under his hand. Dean leans down so Sam can finally reach his brother's lips in a soul scorching kiss.

***

"Sam, I'm really beginning to wonder what you aren't telling me. I mean, is there something in the case you're having trouble remembering?" I inquired, starting to worry that this was more than just an elderly moment.

"Sorry kid. It's just... you're not quite ready for that. Also, some things are just not meant for the light of day. They're just for you, to keep those memories alive, and no one else needs to know all that," Sam said with his pleading look.

I shrugged my shoulders to indicate he should continue on with his story, as he lit another cigarette. He took a long inhale, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling the carbon and smoke through his nose and mouth.

***

Starlight Essence was anything but your normal psychic. Most are normal folk trying to make a living by helping others.

This chick was out there.

Her "office" (if you could call it that) was a medieval, donkey-drawn caravan wagon. The short, thin-as-a-rail woman had a wreath of leaves around her head of auburn hair. She was wearing a long, flowing skirt that resembled the one straight of Disney movie.

"Excuse me, Miss..." started Sam, dressed in his best suit and tie, badge in his breast pocket, inside his jacket.

"Starlight. Please Sam, call me Starlight." A pleasant smile crossed her face.

Sam was frozen to the spot, not sure what to say next. He knows he never told her his name. Dean chose that moment to step up next to him, not realizing what had just conspired.

"You're here about the tarot card in Dean's jacket pocket and the nasty ghost that has been picking off my witch friends," as she bent down to pick a weed from the makeshift garden she had around her wagon.

Dean looked to Sam seeing his confused expression understanding that his brother didn't tell her their real names.

Eyebrows a mile high, posture stiffened, smile instantly gone, Dean switched right to Hunter mode. "Alright then, let's just skip to the good news, bad news part of this. How the hell do you know that? What, when, where, why, and how, sister because if you know so much, what's up with not stopping your witch friends from kicking it hmm?" He demanded, stepping in front of Sam.

"Well, if I knew how to stop it, Dean Winchester, I would. That is why you and Sam are here, right?" She straightened up from her garden, clapping the dirt off of her hands. "Now about that card, The Lovers Card, I believe. You both touched it I assume."

"Yes ma'am." Sam blushed behind his long bangs, looking down at his feet.

"Mmmhmm.... I see. Well things are going to be very interesting for the two of you," smiled Starlight turning toward the wagon, indicating that they should follow.

Inside was a lot bigger than the outside suggested. She made a wave of her hand toward the booth-like table. The boys sitting side by side, while the psychic sat across from them. She held out her hand toward Dean.

"May I have the card please?" she asked quietly within the space.

Dean took the card from his pocket, making sure it was face up, sliding it across the surface of the table between them. Looking from her to the card and back again. He couldn't believe they were doing this.

***

The old man started coughing right before stubbing out his cigarette. He reached for the water bottle beside the ashtray that was overflowing.

I looked at the old hunter as he took a sip from the bottle. You could still see the young man he used be, hear the love and devotion in his voice as he talked about his older brother and the love for a good case.

Even though they were old as dirt to a young hunter like myself, they were legends in their own right.

It was getting late in the afternoon, I knew Sam had to go meet Dean at the nursing home soon, just hoped the old man could hurry his story along so he could do so. I would feel guilty as hell if I was the reason he missed a meal with Dean.

Taking another sip off the bottle, Sam leaned firmly onto his elbows as he looked me in the eye, those cataract covered hazel eyes seeing into my soul told me more about his affection for Dean then his words ever could.

***

The psychic had told them they could find the ghost in the museum they had first visited when they started this hunt. The man, William Straughton, had been cremated when he died. There had to be something in that museum that kept him there.

Sam and Starlight searched the bottom floor, while Dean took the small library off the second floor stairwell. It held cloaks of former witches, scrolls of witchcraft, as well as several documents under glass.

The most intriguing of all were the old robes that the Magistrate had worn at the time. Sure enough Straughton's was there along with many others.

A shrill scream came from the first floor as Starlight was attacked by the ghost. Sam, with an iron bar, sliced through the ghost making him disappear for a few moments.

"Dean, tell me you found something!" yelled Sam from the floor below.

"Yea, give me a minute!" Dean yelled back as he took the robe down from its display. Laying it out onto the floor, he dumped salt and lighter fluid on it before getting his zippo free of his pocket. Throwing the lighter onto the pile of fabric, watching it spark to life.

Before Sam's and Starlight's eyes the ghost of Magistrate William Straughton went up in flames. He screamed his way to hell where he belonged for the sins he committed.

Still on the floor where the ghost had thrown her, Starlight rubbed her bruised throat thoughtfully as Sam reached a hand out to help her to her feet.

"Thank you," she croaked out hoarsely.

Sam just nodded, looking up at the staircase for a sign of his brother.

Dean was making his way down the stairs with an air of protectiveness seeping from him. Once he was standing in front of Sam, he looked him over for any injuries, a very normal thing for his big brother to do. Satisfied that Sam was ok, he looked at Starlight, prepared to answer any questions she might have.

She shook her head and laughed "That card has nothing on what is already between you two."

Sam looked confused, while Dean just looked pissed off that the damn psychic was laughing at them.

"Well if there's nothing more..." Dean turned towards the door with his duffel in hand, to the car to wait for his brother.

The psychic turned to Sam, reaching up to place a soft hand to his cheek. "Sam, love him, be there for him. He will need you more, down the road, more than you need him."

"Umm... Thank you?" He stammered, not fully understanding as he walked out to the car to head back to their motel to grab the rest of their gear.

***

Sam walked into their shared room replaying the words the psychic had said to him. Hearing his brother in the shower, he sat their gear on the second bed knowing it won't be used tonight. He slipped into the bathroom stripping off his clothes and sliding in the shower behind Dean.

Sam ran his hand down Dean's side, caressing his hip before turning him to face him. He kissed him and slid his fingers up the back of Dean's neck.

"I need you," he whispered into his brother's mouth.

Dean's eyes roamed looking for something he could use as makeshift lube. Sam was thinking the same thing and handed him a bottle of conditioner.

"This will do," Sam said turning to face the wall.

Dean worked Sam open with deft fingers. Sam's moans filled his ears, sending shockwaves of need and lust straight to his cock as Sam began to push back, riding his fingers.

Dean leans over Sam's back nibbling on his neck as he slides inside him. Groaning as he bottoms out, flush against his brother.

***

"... oh, sorry kid. I guess I spaced out on ya one more time," said Sam looking a bit sad, but fonder.

"Naw, it's ok old man," I joked. "I can tell by what the psychic said about the card that the whole case must have been really important you guys." I gave him a reassuring smile and reached to pat his shoulder. I could understand that whatever he was keeping to himself was powerful and would stick with him till the end of his days.

***

Sam thought to himself, 'the Winchesters solved another case,' as they climbed into the car. Dean in the driver's seat, Led Zeppelin blaring on the radio, and Sam leaning against his door as Dean drove down the interstate toward another town, state, wherever.

"So, what she said about the card... Do you think it's true?" asked Dean turning the radio down low looking at Sam.

Sam had found the tarot card in the deck, face down, at the very top. Starlight had told him that meant he was destined to find it.

Dean on the other hand found the card right side up. Starlight told him that it was just luck that he had found it, although they are destined Soulmates.

Dean groaned at this information, the Angels had told this years ago.

She also told them that they had important work ahead of them and they would need each other more than ever. She wasn't so sure that the magic of the tarot had much to do with anything they already had.

"Your guess is a good as mine," shrugged Sam. " To think that a card could make us codependent to each other, then that card had to have been with us all our lives." He smirked into the window and door he was leaning into.

Dean chuckled as he brought his hand to close around the back of Sam's neck, squeezing lightly.

Sam sighed as he relaxed into the touch.

***

"So kid, that's how we found out not to mess around with Tarot cards," said a raspy smoke-filled voice.

"Yea. You and Dean are what Great Uncle Bobbie used to call Idjits, according to my mom," I answered with a smile.

"Yup. Your mother was a smart woman. Conor on his way to come git your ass soon?" asked Sam with a smile and a chuckle, thinking of the girl that had come into their lives a few years ago.

"Yea. He texted. He's about five out. Want me to stick around?" I asked knowing the old man wouldn't leave til I did.

"Naw. You know your Gramps as well as I do. He will freak out if his baby isn't in the parking lot by five pm, where he can see her," said Sam, his smile not touching his eyes.

"Yea. Thanks Poppy, for the story. Give Gramps a hug for me." I smiled as the red Chevy Camaro pulled up next to the Impala, Panic at the Disco blaring.

"Heya Pops!" yelled Conor from the driver side window over the music.

"Go before that brother of yours does something to your Gramps' car," shooed Sam.

I hugged the old man before running towards the Camaro. Sam stood from the bench slowly picking up his bag and making his way to the Impala.

Sam watched his and Dean's grandsons fight over who was going to drive that hunk of junk Camaro. Smiling to himself, he got into the driver's seat of the Impala and started her up, headed toward the nursing home and Dean.

The End


End file.
